Momentum
by subseeker
Summary: "Who'da thunk it?" he murmurs as he grinds his hips again, harder this time. A grin grows on his lips as he watches Dean's eyes widen a bit, hears him breathe a heavy breath… as he feels him buck against him. "Didn't know you play that kind of dirty little games, too, Mr. Ambrose." (John Cena/Dean Ambrose, one-shot, smut)


Weeeell… Yeah, I really did this.

Dean and my Johnny.

And here I sit and I'm totally curious if this story will be read and if I even get some reviews O.o

Thank you to those who give this a try!

Have fun :)

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><p>Black depths, drawing him in… surrounded by… blue? Grey? So vivid... Heat… radiating off the body he holds pinned against the wall… fleeting over him in waves. Surprisingly soft skin against his palm and the exciting hardness of muscles underneath. A scent filling his nostrils that leaves him taking deep breaths. Not that he really wants to, but he can't help it. His heart… it is pounding in an odd mixture of confusion and irritation hard and fast against his chest. The hair on the back of his neck raise and the world around him has faded to a blurred and faintly buzzing background movie.<p>

He feels the other man's hands on his shoulders to push him back, on his arms to make him let go and for a brief moment the man he holds trapped against the wall rears up, causing him to take a step backwards, but with a growl he moves forward again. A dull thud tells him that the other man has hit his head against the wall under the force of being shoved back, but instead of a pained sound he receives a defiant smirk. Again hands on him to make him let go, but he only tightens his grip, maybe even thight enough to leave bruises. He doesn't care.

He doesn't even know how they even ended up like this, because it's just not his style to lose it like this, but here they stand and it is good that they are in a room in a secluded corner, unseen by their friends and co-workers. The air around them is humming and the bit of space between them is sizzling with tension. Their little… feud… has reached a quality that is rich and heavy and almost graspable, so much that he can almost _taste_ it and there is a whisper from the darkest corner within him that even dares to say that it is... exciting.

A rumbling, throaty chuckle reaches his ears, fuels it all and with another growl he pushes hard against the other man, so hard that he can hear the air whoosh out of his lungs in a hiss, yet the irritating smirk grows.

"What _the fuck_ is your Problem, Ambrose?!" John hisses angrily.

To the smirk on Dean's face adds a too smug expression while his eyes roam John's face and his tongue flicks out, quickly running over his bottom lip, before he locks gazes with John again.

"To make it to the top of this company, one has to go through you. Your words. And I take people by their words, John," Dean replies in an annoying kind of a singsong. "I'm the error in your plan, always there like a maddening stumbling block. I'm gonna bug and push you, _John_, and then I'm gonna _beat_ you."

For a second John only stares… before he smiles. It's not a nice smile but a threatening one, so unlike the John Cena everyone knows and there is a brief flicker in the other man's eyes that tells him that this smile takes Dean by surprise. Good.

"You think that I'm what, impressed now? Intimidated even? Yeah? I call Randy Orton my best friend, I know how to deal with someone like you," he smiles, his voice eerily calm now because he _does_ know how to handle people like Dean and the best way to take the wind out of their sails is not to lose one's temper. _He almost got me_, John thinks and pushes the angriness aside. "You think you know John Cena but you don't know _me_, kid. Don't mess with me," he adds. "Don't even think about it. I grant you that you're good and you may be a stumbling block in my way, _Dean_, but I'm that mountain in yours that is much to high and dangerous for you to overcome."

With that he lets go of the other man and steps back, still smiling as he gives Dean a single nod and turns away to head for his locker room, knowing that this now, it will irk Dean. He hears a rustling and a snort as his feet carry him further and he expects a comment being hauled after him.

What he doesn't expect is to hear the sound of someone running after him and frowing he turns back around, only find himself flat on the ground only a moment later with Dean practically sitting on him, grabbing his wrists to fight him down and for a surprised moment John lets it happen, lets him have his way until his wrists are pinned to the floor and Dean hovers above him.

John stills… and Dean does, too.

The air between them is still sizzling, electrified, and there is still that tension… only that it is different now he notices… that _something_ in it has changed, makes that tension so thick that any sound bounces off it. The world around them is nothing more than a faint whisper while they remain like this and John is torn between pushing Dean away and simply wait what will happen next, and maybe it's because the angriness that sparks within him again at the brazeness of this man drowns in a wave of curiousness and anticipation.

Keeping his face carefully blank, he keeps his gaze locked with Dean's, but from the corner of his eye he sees the other man's lips twitch a bit, sees his nostrils flare as he takes a deep breath and John can't help but breathe deeply, too. There is the scent of fresh sweat from their match only minutes ago and aftershave. And Dean's shampoo. And there is this _heat_.

The fingers around his wrists tighten as Dean leans a bit further down, the muscles of his jaw jumping while his eyes flick back forth. He is fighting, John thinks. With himself? Against his own courage? Or maybe idiocy is the better term. Or against something else?

"Too cute, old man. Do you think that your little speech will stop me? Do you really think I _fear_ you?" Dean says eventually, his lips stretching to something that borders on baring his teeth. "Guys like you have so often tried to crush me under their feet but I got back up again. Every. Single. Time." He leans down even more, until his mouth is close to John's ear. His breath it hot on John's skin as he whispers: "_Nothing_ will stop me, John, not even you."

It sends a wave of goosebumps all over his body, that hot breath, and the fact that it feels _good_ catches John off guard and unsettles him.

"Is this your hobby, Ambrose? To annoy others until you get that smug grin of yours punched right out of your face? Is that what you want?" John replies, keeping his voice very calm, indifferent even, because the last thing he needs now is that the other man notices something.

Dean pulls back again. His pupils are dilated, the light blue nothing more than a thin ring as his gaze drops to John's mouth. Dean's lips twitch slightly… his tongue flicks over his bottom lip…

_You little shit…_

With a muted growl John rears up, rolls them over and grabs his wrists, just like Dean has done with him a moment ago, and effortlessly pins them to the floor while lowering himself down on the struggling man. Dean is strong, but he is not strong enough to fight John off. It doesn't stop him from trying though and that is something John silently admires when it comes to Dean. His will to fight, the fact that he never gives up. Dean keeps on struggling for long moments, writhes under him, tries to buck him off… but eventually he stops and once more they gaze at each other. More of Dean's hot breath touches his skin, fleets over his face and it's now that he realizes how close they are. He should bring a bit of space between them. He doesn't. Actually, he doesn't _want_ to.

He shifts a bit, comes to lie between the younger man's legs and stills completely... at the hardness that is pressing against his hip… Quirking an eyebrow, John lets his eyes sweep over the other man's face, stops at slightly parted lips… and there is the faintest of smiles dancing on them… and back to the deep eyes which are wearing a provocative gleam… and John can't help but grind his hips against Dean's a bit.

And the low hum he receives shoots straight between his legs.

"Who'da thunk it?" he murmurs as he grinds his hips again, harder this time. A grin grows on his lips as he watches Dean's eyes widen a bit, hears him breathe a heavy breath… as he feels him buck against him. "Didn't know you play that kind of dirty little games, too, Mr. Ambrose. You could simply have asked, you know?"

The smile on Dean's lips grows, too, and defiance seeps into his expression again.

"And where is the fun in that?"

"So this," John begins and forces the other man's arms closer together to grab both wrists with one hand to underline his words, while the other finds Dean's neck, fingers curling around it in a firm hold. "_This_ is fun for you, yeah? You like lying on the ground while being held down? Does it turn you on?"

There is no answer, but there is no need for one, because he can see it in the other man's eyes. His eyes flick over to the door which isn't locked and although it's unlikely that someone will walk in here, there is still a barely there chance… And usually this isn't the kind of fuck he prefers, somewhere in a dusty room with a guy who isn't his type, but having Dean lying under him like this, right after a match that has left him humming with pent-up tension…

_Fuck it…_

Lifting himself up just a little, he lets go of Dean's neck and grabs the already half-torn wife-beater, practically ripping it from the younger man's body to use the fabric to tie his wrists up. Dean begins to struggle immediately while the smile never leaves his lips and the bucking, writhing, grinding against him has John rock-hard within the shortest of times.

Drawing back, John grabs a fistful of the younger man's hair as he gets to his feet, pulling the other man with him until Dean knees in front of him. There is a pained hiss in between but John doesn't care. Dean has signed for this, so he will have to deal with the consequences.

He takes his time to get rid of his shorts and his boxers. It's almost creepy how silent Dean is while he only stares up at him, that smile on his lips never wavering and John holds his gaze. Even if he wanted to look away, those eyes keep him prisoner in a fascinating and even a bit sick way. Again the younger man's tongue flicks out as he tilts his head a bit to the side. From the corner of his eye John can clearly see the other man's cock strain against the blue denim, can see Dean's chest rise and fall quickly. It ignites a fire in him, this sight. Dean kneeling to his feet, waiting to be fucked…

His shorts and boxers drop to his feet and he brings a hand to his cock, pumping it in lazy strokes, bringing it close to the younger man's face.

"Open your mouth," John commands, but all ge gets is a cheeky grin and a mouthed _no_.

Pursing his lips, John grabs a fistful of blond strands agains while bringing his other hand to Dean's jaw, fingers closing around it to press the insides of his cheeks hard against his teeth to force his mouth open. His fingers stay curled in the other man's hair as he pushes his cock deep into the hot cavern, slamming in to the base, making him gag and cough.

"That what you wanted? To be _used_?" he says mockingly as he gazes down into watery eyes, yet the defiance is still there. "You asked for the hard way, kid…"

He grins, hearing him moan around his member and it sends a tingle up his spine, making his cock shiver with precum. Holding his head in place as pulls out slowly, he hears how he gags with such a lovely sound around his cock and it is a somehow freeing feeling to let this dark side of him out for once.

This thought surges him on and he slams back down into Dean's throat with brutal force, making him grunt in pain. Bound hands come up to John's hips to push him back... without success. The feeling of the other man's mouth on him, of his throat sucking at his throbbing flesh makes the fire within him flare up brightly. Enjoying Dean's struggling, he licks his upper lip and pulls out just enough so that the head is inside his mouth before slamming back down again.

For a moment he remains being buried deeply in that wonderful hot wetness, before pulling back a bit. He hears Dean take a few deep breaths, but those eyes never breaking away from John.

Letting go of the blond hair, he runs his fingers almost lovingly through it as he asks: "You doing now what I tell you to?" Dean nods slightly, shifts a bit and John thinks that it must be hurting to have his painfully hard cock being trapped in the tight denim. Well, Dean would have to deal with this a little longer. "Good boy. Suck me."

The bound hands come up, fingers closing around John's cock as Dean pulls back, making a popping sound with his lips as he releases the hard flesh. The tip of his tongue flicks out, licking over the head, before taking it in his mouth again, sucking all of John's cock into his mouth as he begins to bob his head up and down, first slow, then picking up the pace. His teeth graze the sensitive flesh and the suction he creates as goes for deep-throating the twitching member sets John's whole body on fire.

One of John's hands find back to the blond locks, not to grab it but to rest there, because he needs something to hold on at the feeling of that talented mouth on him. Once more Dean moans around his cock while his hands work on the shaft, rubbing and tugging. It doesn't take long until John feels that if he doesn't stop Dean now, that this fun will be over much too soon, because as hot as the thought of having the younger man swallow his cum is… having him moan like a slut while cumming in that tight ass is what every fiber in his body demands…

"Stop," he orders the other man, watches him pull back while heavily lidded eyes meet his gaze again. "Get up."

Dean does as he is told. His cheeks are flushed and the eyes impossibly black, those talented lips swollen and the saliva that is sticking to his chin makes him look like a slut, yet so damn hot… He lifts his hands, wiggling his fingers, but John shakes his head no.

"You won't need them," he growls as he reaches out, ungently unfastening Dean's jeans, before pushing them together with his underwear down the nicely shaped legs.

Dean's neglected cock juts out from between them, twitching, begging to be touched but instead John grabs the other man by his arm and steers him towards a storage box.

"Brace on it and spread your legs," he growls while stepping behind him.

Leaning onto the box with a low chuckle, Dean pushes his ass back and rubs his against John's groin, drawing a long, low groan from him.

"Whatcha waiting for, big boy?"

Settling a hand on the slender waist, he slowly rolls his hips against the younger man's ass while closing his free hand around Dean's cock to set for an agonizingly slow stroking. He doesn't want to go slow and gentle with him here… but he wants him to beg.

"Impatient, are we, Ambrose? You want my cock in you so bad, huh?" John says huskily, getting a snort from the other man that fails to sound mocking as the tiny sound is quivering too much. "Say it," he growls once more while pumping the throbbing flesh in his hand faster until a traitorous moan passes Dean's lips.

"Fuck me," he hears him… whimper… and that sound causes John's arousal to peak. "Fuck me so hard that I'll remember it every time I take a step."

John lets go of the other man's cock and positions is own member at Dean's entrance… and buries himself to the hilt in the tight heat with one hard thrust. Into his groan laces a cry that tears from Dean's throat and he can feel the other man tremble a little. No prep, barely lube… probably hurts like bitch, but again, Dean has signed for this.

Leaning forward, he brings his mouth closer to Dean's ear and breathes: "Keep that dirty mouth of yours shut, Ambrose… or do you want someone to come in and see you being fucked like a cheap whore?"

He hears an unsteady little laughter and then: "Yeah, as much as you want people to see i…uuh…"

The words die in Dean's throat trail off to a moan as John bucks his hips sharply.

"I said keep your mouth shut," John hisses and tightens his hold on the other man's hips as he starts to fuck him, picking up a hard and fast pace that makes the lean body in front of him quiver with each thrust.

The muscles of Dean's arms and his back flex under the smooth skin as he braces himself on the box against the force and soon he's meeting John's thrusts. Stifled moans and groans pass his lips, mingling into John's own sounds of pleasure with every time John rams up inside him, pulling his cock out almost completely, only to shove back in to the hilt.

The world around John fades out as he allows his need to take over control, his mind drowning in a daze as all of his blood flows to his aching cock. All there is left is the feeling of that tight heat squeezing his aching flesh like a glove and those rough and breathy sounds Dean gives him as he fucks him mercilessly, making him want to take him even more, making him _burn_.

Dean's finger claw over the surface of the box for a hold he doesn't find. A thin sheen of sweat is covering the smooth skin, John notices faintly, making it shimmer in the fuzzy light. The sounds of their mating dim as a buzzing in his ears gets louder. For the briefest of moments Dean looks back over your shoulder with black, deep and hooded eyes, the gleam in them pure sex. Dean burns, just as John burns. Tiny mewls seep into the buzzing and whimpers, wanton little sounds.

Waves of hot pleasure surge up and roll through him, fuelling the raging fire within him and with it come jolts of electricity which flow through his veins like liquid fire and pool in his abdomen and between his legs.

One of John's hands finds to Dean's abandonded cock, his fingers curling around it and the younger man's almost whorish moan that tears from his throat as John begins to move his hand on the hard flesh in the rhythm of his thrusts pierces through the fog that clouds John's mind, pushing him further towards his release.

So close, so damn close... and he can feel that Dean is right there with him, feels the hot walls around him becoming tighter. He pounds into him hard, _harder_... and suddenly Dean arches back against him and tenses up, before the heat around his cock spasms and the throbbing flesh he keeps pumping explodes in his hand. The feeling pulls him over the edge and with a guttural groan he follows. The electricity that has curled up in his belly unfurls and rips throughout his body as he cums hard, a full-body shudder ripping through him. Burying his cock as deep in the clenching heat as he can, he shoots his cum deep into the quivering body...

For a long moment John feels like he's floating as he leans forward, resting his forehead between the other man's shoulderblades, panting hard while his heart hammers against his chest. Shivers as small waves of the aftershock run through him and through Dean, too.

"You okay?" John murmurs eventually, wiping his cum-stained hand on his thigh.

He needs a shower anyway. Badly.

"Huh, you just can't stop being the good guy, can you, old man? Get off me."

John shrugs and pulls out, seeing Dean wince and while his eyes sweep down the other man's back to his hips where he finds a faint shadow close to where his hand has been. A shadow like a fading bruise. Dean turns around to him then and holds his bound hands towards him.

"Does Roman know that you're fucking other men?" John asks as he unties them.

Dean hesitates and just looks at him for a moment, just long enough to tell John that he has assumed right who has left the bruise there.

"It's a friends with benefits thing. I don't have to ask him for his permission with whom I fuck." He hesitates again, scratches the back of his head and shakes it slightly, a crooked smile on his lips. It catches John's attention and with a raised eyebrow he tilts his head a bit to the side. "I don't fuck around, Cena," Dean adds and John is about to say that he doesn't care, as he sees the other man's crooked smile become a too damn smug one.

"So?" John asks as he steps away from him and throws his clothes back on.

"You were a challenge for me and I won," he hears Dean say.

Somehow it doesn't surprise him to hear that.

"I let you win," John corrects him as he turns back to the other man who's still standing there naked. A nice sight, he admits to himself. Lean, well-toned… "We both know that you couldn't have stopped me from walking right out of this room if I had wanted to."

"Maybe. But I would have tried to."

And it is back on Dean's face, that smug expression that is so goddamn annoying, but John only shrugs again, turning to leave the room.

"No doubt about that," he says without looking back.

"This doesn't change a fucking thing. I gonna beat you, old man!" Dean calls and John can hear that dirty little grin in the younger man's voice.

Stopping with his hand already on the handle of the door, John turns his head a bit to the side, just enough for Dean to see a grin of his own as he replies lowly: "In your dreams, kid."

He opens the door and leaves the room without looking back. But he knows that from now on he should look over his shoulder every once in a while, just to be sure.

Because the game… it has just begun.

- End -

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><p><strong>Someone got some words for me? Pretty please?<strong>


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